Recovery of Winter
by asgardianmints
Summary: Steve doesn't need to look for Bucky, because eventually, Bucky finds him. Set after Cap2. Rated T to be safe.
1. After The Fall

**Hey, all!**

**I know this has probably been done to death by now, but I wanted to throw my own interpretation on the aftermath of Steve and Bucky's relationship after Cap2. This first chapter will be shorter than the others to come, because I suck at introductions. **

**Anyway, please let me know what you think! Enjoy ^.^**

* * *

Natasha had said that the Winter Soldier was a ghost. She couldn't have been any more literal.

It was as if the former James Barnes had been swept away on the wind. He left no trace, no clues, no indication he had ever existed in the first place. And as SHIELD crumbled around him, so did Steve's determination. Bucky didn't want to be found, and so he wouldn't be.

Steve did his research. Getting information from SHIELD's secure servers wasn't that difficult any more. He gathered everything he could about the ghost story of the Winter Soldier, and everything there was in SHIELD's unsolved cases file. If HYDRA had been infiltrating SHIELD for all this time, who's to say where the unexplained began and the Winter Soldier ended?

It was during one of their morning runs together that Sam brought up the possibility that Bucky might just be too far gone. It hadn't even crossed Steve's mind until that point that his old friend could be irretrievable amongst the Soldier's scrambled mind. But all that thought did to Steve was make him burn with determination and anger. _Why did it have to be him?_

But Steve kept thinking back to the helicarrier. He had given Bucky the chance to finish the job. It would only have taken him one more blow to the head. But he'd stopped. And not only that, but Steve was certain it was Bucky who pulled him from the water after he fell. Steve knew Bucky wanted answers, and sooner or later, Steve was sure he would be giving them.

* * *

Two months had passed since everything that happened, and it was only now that Steve heard anything from Natasha.

Apparently she was in Dubai, working some covert operation with Clint.

"But that's not why I'm calling you," she said. "I'm calling you to tell you I talked to him."

Steve's heart skipped a beat. "… Bucky?"

"The one and only."

"Where? In _Dubai_?"

"No," she paused. "It was a while back. Only a week or so after I last spoke to you."

It was Steve's turn to pause. "That was over two months ago. What have you-"

"I thought I just mentioned that I've been a little tied up recently. This is the first chance I've had to make a casual phone call in a while."

"Right, sorry." Steve sighed, rubbing his forehead. He was starting to get a headache.

He heard someone muttering to Natasha on the other side of the line. She snapped something unintelligible back before continuing, "Look, Steve. He's… not doing so good. He found me. He wanted information."

Steve suspected he knew the answer already as he asked, "About what?"

"About you." There was another quick exchange between Natasha and whoever she was with. "Steve, I don't know much about what was done to him. But being out of HYDRA's grasp for this long is taking its toll."

Steve wasn't sure how to respond. "I'm going to find him, Nat. Whatever it takes, I'm going to help him get better."

"Steve, just promise me one thing," Natasha sighed, but there was the smallest hint of amusement in her tone. "Don't get yourself killed."

"I'll try my best. Say hi to the Hawk for me."

"Will do. See you, Cap."

She hung up.

Steve's mind was racing. If Bucky was already struggling that long ago, how was he doing now? As much as he didn't want to even think it, this was all further fueling Sam's concern over Bucky being too far gone to be retrieved.

* * *

More time passed; Steve couldn't even be sure exactly how much anymore.

He'd decided to take his run a little earlier this morning. Regardless, Sam still joined him. Steve was beginning to rely on Sam's company like a crutch now. After everything that had happened, everything that had changed, Sam seemed to be always there for him. And Steve couldn't be more grateful.

But this time, despite everything otherwise being the usual, Steve couldn't shake an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach. He found himself looking over his shoulder, and not just to check to see if Sam had caught up to him yet.

It was a flash of movement. Just shadows in the corner of his eye, in amongst the trees. Steve slowed down to a near stop, heart racing.

"You okay, man?" Sam asked. "I actually almost outran you there."

"Yeah, yeah," Steve was unsure. "Sorry, just thought I saw someone."

Sam took a moment to survey the trees, before looking back at Steve. "You okay to continue?"

"Yeah." Steve smiled. "Yeah, of course. You getting tired?"

Sam smirked. "Please, I'm just warming up."

* * *

After the run, the two of them decided to go for breakfast to take their minds off things. Steve got back to his apartment around midday.

As soon as he unlocked the door, he thought something was off. His heart raced into his throat as he stepped inside. The place was just as he'd left it, but once again it was something in the corner of his eye that made him aware that there was someone else here.

And there was only one person it could be.

Steve took a gamble. Facing the door to close it, he spoke softly. "We've been looking for you."

The reply from the far side of the room was quiet, emotionless. "I know."

Steve turned around.

The Winter Soldier was tense, hands in stiff fists inside his pockets. He wore a simple black jacket and pants. From underneath a baseball cap his choppy hair fell like curtains over the eyes that didn't flicker away from Steve's face for a second.

Steve swallowed. He felt as though making any sudden move would scare Bucky away. "Why show yourself now?"

"Because I want your help," Bucky's voice was scratchy wish disuse. "I… want to remember."

A little weight lifted off of Steve's chest. This was good; this was Bucky coming to him for help. It occurred to Steve that this is what he should have waited for all along. He took a tentative step forward, but stopped when he noticed Bucky's eyes flare up in caution.

"That's good, Buck," a small smile spread across Steve's face. "And I want to help you remember."

Bucky still looked uncertain as he nodded. "I've never been awake this long. Things keep… happening inside my head. Images, voices… and you." He frowned. "It's always you. Why is it always you?"

Steve couldn't look at Bucky's face any more. His eyes found a spot on the floor and he stared at it. "Bucky, I'm sorry."

The Soldier's frown deepened. He tilted his head, and for the first time, he was the one who took a step forward. "Why?"

"I should have tried harder to save you, Buck, I shouldn't have given up on you." Steve could hear his voice trembling. To him, Bucky fell from the train only a year ago. He was told he'd spent nearly 70 years frozen in ice, but everything from before still felt so vivid. He had seen his best friend die one year ago, but now here he was. Back from the dead. "If I'd known you were still alive…"

Bucky was still again. His face relaxed slightly but his eyes were still dark with confusion.

Steve expelled his guilt in a sigh. "It doesn't matter. You're here now, and we can finally start to fix this. Together."


	2. Moving Mountains

**Here you go, chapter two! Massive thanks to everyone who favourited/followed/reviewed the first one ^^**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

Steve's eyes felt as though they were made of rust.

He glanced at the clock. **05:35**.

He sighed; this was all he'd been doing for the past six hours. Twisting and turning under the bedsheets, checking the time, and thinking over and over everything that had happened. After all this time, Steve found it hard to believe that Bucky was here right now, and willing to accept Steve's help.

Steve had been able to hear muffled footsteps pacing from one end of the guest bedroom to the other for the past hour or so. He knew Bucky hadn't slept at all. But Steve didn't want to scare Bucky away, or make him feel trapped. After everything he's been through, that was the last thing Steve wanted.

* * *

"_I brought you some clothes," Steve said cautiously, giving Bucky a smile and placing a small pile of various T-shirts, pants and jackets on the newly-made guest bed. "I, uh, don't know your size. If nothing fits, I can go get you something in the morning, or-"_

"_These are fine." _

_Steve nodded. "Do you want anything to eat?"_

_An odd expression crossed Bucky's face, and he frowned. "I… don't think so."_

"_Okay." Steve sighed. He ran a hand through his hair. "Are… are you sure you're okay on your own?"_

_Bucky made an odd movement with his shoulder; Steve could hear a faint mechanical whirring sound. After a pause, Bucky said, "I'll be fine. But… thank you."_

"_It's no problem, Buck."_

* * *

All in all, the night had been horrible.

Bucky was restless the whole way through it. There wasn't a minute that went by where Steve hadn't heard footsteps or the window opening and closing or Bucky muttering to himself. There had been a moment where Steve heard Bucky cry, quietly and hopelessly, followed by a metallic _clank_ against the wall. It had taken all Steve had not to rush in there.

Another glance at the clock. **05:50**.

Steve couldn't take it anymore. He swung his legs over the side of the bed. Before getting up, he took a second to listen. The guest room was dead silent. Panic began to rise in Steve's mind, but he knew he had to keep a level head. He prayed that maybe Bucky had finally succumbed to fatigue. Throwing on a plain white T-shirt over his pajama pants, Steve stood up. His muscles ached from lack of sleep and all the moving around he'd done during the night.

Opening his bedroom door, he still heard no sound from Bucky's room.

Steve tried to move quietly, in case Bucky really was asleep. He padded towards the kitchen. It was almost six in the morning; if he wasn't going to sleep he needed something to do. Putting on the coffee machine, Steve couldn't stop his mind wandering in worry.

And then he heard Bucky's voice. "Steve?"

"Bucky." Steve left the kitchen, coffee forgotten as he rushed to the closed door. But there wasn't another word. After a moment, he opened the door and peered inside.

A cold chill hit him immediately, coming from the wide-open window. Aside from the bedclothes being as made as they had been when Steve had left Bucky alone, everything else in the room had been ransacked. The dresser and bedside table drawers had all been pulled open and the items inside thoroughly searched. There was a dent in the wall adjacent to Steve's bedroom that hadn't been there before.

Bucky sat on the edge of the bed, facing the window. He was hunched over, his arms drawn in front of him. He had changed into one of Steve's long-sleeved shirts and tracksuit pants. He was muttering to himself.

"Jesus, Buck," Steve rushed forward, first closing the windows before getting to his knees so he could look at Bucky's face, which was buried in his hands. "Bucky?" there was no response. Steve wasn't sure what to do. Would he let Steve touch him? Steve put a hand on Bucky's shoulder. He became acutely aware of the trembles rippling up and down Bucky's body. "Bucky, look at me."

The voice that came shakily from Bucky's mouth was neither the Winter Soldiers nor James Barnes'. It was small, and scared. "I shouldn't be here at all…"

"What..." Steve's grip on Bucky's shoulder tightened, trying to coax him to look up. "What do you mean? Bucky, please, just look at me."

Bucky moved back, shrugging Steve's hand off of his shoulder. "No. No, no, I can't look at you. I can't. You're…" he moved his metal hand through his hair with a slightly jerky movement, grasping it tightly at the back. "You're my target. I keep thinking I have things under control but I- I don't. I never do. They _always win_…"

Steve sat back on his haunches, moving his hand away. It took a lot not to join in with Bucky's panic, to embrace him and just tell him _it's okay now_. _I'm not going to let anyone hurt you anymore. _"They won't win, not this time. Bucky, don't you see? You don't have to follow their orders anymore. You can make your own choices-"

"I _can't_!" Bucky sprung like a cat as his bionic fist connected with Steve's face, sending him flying back against the window.

The world span as Steve tried to regain his balance. He could taste the blood that was gathering inside his mouth. There was a flash of movement as Bucky's blurred silhouette moved away from Steve, pressing like a coiled spring against the corner of the room.

Bucky was beginning to hyperventilate. "Don't you see it now?! I'm not meant to be like this, I- I'm not supposed to-" the end of the sentence turned into a groan as his knees buckled. He started repeating himself. "I shouldn't be here…"

Steve wiped at his bloodied mouth. "B- Bucky, I'm not giving up on you."

Bucky's eyes were wide with terror as anxiety took hold of him. And then in an instant, all the rage and madness seemed to wash away as suddenly as it began, leaving Bucky visibly exhausted. It was only now, as Steve approached him again slowly, that he took a proper look at his friend's face. There were dark rings underneath his bloodshot eyes. His skin had a sallow tint and he was unshaven. Steve only noticed now that Bucky had mostly ripped off the sleeve that covered the metal arm, revealing that it also wasn't coping without maintenance.

"Wh- why not?" Bucky's eyebrows drew together in a shaky frown. "Why am I so… why are you using your time… on me?"

Those words broke Steve's heart. _Every reason, Bucky._ Cautiously, he bent down so he was eye-level with Bucky once again. The metal arm was twitching, its fingers clenching into a fist. Steve couldn't bear it anymore; without thinking, he reached forward, and took both Bucky's hands in his own. The metal was cold against Steve's skin.

"N- no, no, don't touch me," Bucky was clearly too tired to resist, but he still tried, and he was shaking now. "Don't… don't touch…"

"Listen to me."

Steve waited, keeping Bucky's hands clenched within his own. But this time, Bucky didn't try and pull away. His breathing was heavy, but after a moment, he seemed to be able to rein back his control. His flickering eyes found Steve's.

Steve's face was hurting, but he still smiled. He couldn't think of anything else to do. He repeated himself now that he was sure Bucky was listening. "Listen to me, Buck. I want to help you, remember? My name is Steve Rogers, and I'm-"

Bucky mumbled something, suddenly distracted.

"Bucky?"

"That… that little guy from Brooklyn." Bucky repeated. "… Steve Rogers?"

Steve's smile broke into a grin that spread from ear to ear. "Yes! Yes, that's me! Do you remember me?"

Bucky's face was twitching. He closed his eyes tight in concentration and shook his head. His voice was loud, but it wasn't shaking anymore. "… I don't know. But those words they're in my head, in my voice. T-That little guy from Brooklyn…"

"… who was too dumb not to run away from a fight. That's it, Buck, that's me! That's what you said to me after I…" Steve bit his lip, and gave his head a small shake. "That doesn't matter right now. What matters is that you're here with me, where nobody will ever get to you, and you're safe. And you're remembering."

Bucky's face was hard to read. But after a moment, the corners of his mouth twitched, and he looked calm again. "Okay."

Steve helped Bucky to his feet. Steve couldn't help but notice that Bucky kept on throwing glances to the bionic arm, and Steve could see why. The metal was grimy, and every so often the odd spark would flare from the crevices in the plates. The decorative star's red paint was beginning to flake off and fade. He couldn't help himself as he asked Bucky, "Is it hurting you?"

Bucky didn't look away from the arm, his eyes narrowed. "Yes."

"Do you know why?" Steve felt helpless; the immediate crisis handled, he felt as though if he was to gain Bucky's full trust, he had to be on top of everything. Every problem and concern. "Has it ever hurt before?"

"I-" A strange look crept onto Bucky's face, somewhere between a grimace and confusion. "Yes. The first thing I remember is them cutting into me. It hurt when they fused the wires with the nerves."

Steve didn't have much experience with technology, much less cybernetic technology, but that sounded to him like a considerable amount of pain. "And it hurts that much _now_?"

Bucky nodded.

* * *

Steve looked at the clock. **10:24**.

And then his gaze found Bucky. He was seated at the kitchen counter, nursing his third mug of coffee. Steve couldn't get him to eat, though he'd tried; the closest thing Bucky would accept is a warm drink.

Bucky looked relatively calm, all traces of his earlier meltdown completely vanished. Steve had also managed to convince him to change into something warmer.

* * *

"_I'm sorry about your shirt."_

_Steve was confused for a moment, before he remembered the torn sleeve. Steve couldn't help but smile. That was the absolute last thing on his mind right now. "It's okay, Buck. Does the arm just heat up a lot?"_

_Bucky looked at it, flexing his fingers with a mechanical whine. "No. It wasn't comfortable. It felt… restricted."_

"_Oh." Steve thought about Bucky's HYDRA ensemble. There had been no sleeve for the metal arm. If that's all Bucky was used to wearing for over 70 years, then it made sense. "I guess I'll just have to buy you some more T-shirts, then."_

* * *

Steve took a moment to inhale deeply. He took out his cellphone.

"Bucky, I just have to make a call. Are you okay on your own for a moment?"

Bucky looked over his shoulder at Steve. He frowned, but nodded.

Steve opened the apartment door, looking at Bucky as he stepped out. He made sure the door was shut before he tapped in a set of familiar numbers. It was answered on the third ring;

"_Hey there, old man. What's up_?"

"Stark." Steve felt irritated already, but he pushed it aside. "I need your help with something."


	3. Immortal Avenger

**Thanks again to all who read and gave me feedback on the last chapter! I hope you enjoy this one :)**

* * *

"_And you're telling me that after all this time; he just_ turns up _at your apartment_?

"That's what I'm telling you."

"_I'm equal parts relieved and worried, Steve_."

"To be honest with you, Sam, so am I. Look, I've got to go. I'll talk to you later."

Steve hung up. He had been hesitant to let anyone know about Bucky's whereabouts, and he was sure Bucky felt the same way, but after all the two of them had been through together recently, Steve thought Sam should know. The Falcon was initially hesitant to let Steve handle Bucky alone, but Steve knew any other form of company would make Bucky react negatively.

Which brought him to his current problem.

Bucky's metal arm needed attention. Steve knew he wasn't exactly a maestro in the area of technology, but it was plain as day that the arm's mechanics were malfunctioning. Its movements were jerky and irregular, and it was causing Bucky clear discomfort.

Putting the phone in his pocket, Steve re-entered the apartment. He had taken about ten minutes to call both Tony and Sam.

He found Bucky still sitting where Steve had left him. The mug of coffee was now empty.

"Hey." Bucky said.

Steve could feel relief flooding his brain as he took in how much calmer Bucky seemed. But it also made him aware that Bucky's mood was unpredictable; even more of a reason for Steve to feel nervous about springing this proposition on him so soon. "Hey. How's the arm?"

"It's okay."

"Does it still hurt?"

"Not as much now." Bucky replied meekly, though the pain etched onto his face betrayed him. "You don't have to worry about it."

"I feel like I do."

Bucky stood up, taking a moment to stretch his other arm and back. "Who were you talking to out there?"

The tone of his voice made Steve feel like a scolded child, despite the question's intention to be casual.

"I was talking to Tony Stark." Steve didn't see any reason to beat around the bush. He winced when he saw Bucky's eyes darken. Quicker, he added, "He's a genius, Buck; I know he can help with your arm. I didn't tell him about you, I just said I could use his help with something. We don't have to go if you don't want to."

Bucky seemed to relax a little, but he still looked uncomfortable. He muttered something under his breath that Steve couldn't catch, which was becoming a habit for him. Steve pressed on, "Bucky, I just don't want you to be in pain. I'll make sure he doesn't tell anyone that you're here. I'll glue his lips shut if I have to."

To Steve's surprise, Bucky half-smiled. It was small, but it made Steve feel less like he was preaching to a lost cause.

"Okay." Bucky said eventually. "We'll go."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah. It would be nice… to have one less thing to worry about."

Steve smiled. "Yeah."

* * *

Bucky was quiet during the ride there.

He had dressed in most of the baggy clothing Steve had given him and his hair was once again covering his face, and though his ensemble was clearly making him hot and uncomfortable, Steve could see it was also making him feel more secure.

"Are you okay?" Steve asked him as they neared the halfway point of the journey.

"In 1991, Howard and Maria Stark were involved in a fatal car accident in Long Island." Bucky's reply was almost a whisper. His phrasing of the words made it sound as though he were reciting it from somewhere. "But it wasn't an accident."

Steve kept silent. He already knew that it was because of HYDRA that Tony Stark was an orphan. And everything Steve had dug up on the Winter Soldier made it clear that it had been the Soldier who had staged the 'accident' in the first place. And it was another reason why Steve was reluctant to bring Bucky to see Tony. Steve was worried what it would do to Bucky if he remembered, which Steve had hoped up until now that he didn't.

"It was me, Steve. I- I was waiting for them there. I remember it all now."

Steve shuffled in his seat. He didn't know what to say. He shot Bucky a sideways glance, hoping against hope that Bucky wouldn't have another episode; but on the contrary, Bucky's face was expressionless as he stared out of the passenger window.

The moment passed. Bucky frowned, and looked at Steve with a rueful glare, a variety of conflicting emotions suddenly crossing his face. "Would Tony really help me after what I did?"

"Bucky, I... I don't think he knows. And I won't tell him. Okay?" Steve knew that was a long shot. Tony had had a way of extracting information from anything or anyone even before everything that had happened. The odds of him knowing the true reason behind his parents' deaths were high.

But Bucky seemed to decide not to dwell on it with Steve any further and nodded, albeit reluctantly, and went back to watching the window.

Steve swallowed, trying to get rid of the dry ache in his throat. It was starting to rain. Steve noticed that Bucky was staring at the droplets that trickled down the window. In his reflection in the window, Bucky's face looked pinched with concentration, as if he were trying to place something else.

"I remember a kid." Bucky eventually stated.

"Hmm?"

"I think he's you." Bucky looked Steve up and down. "The kid in my memory. He looks like you."

Steve gave Bucky a wide smile, which seemed to encourage him to try and remember more. Steve's voice came out a little too eagerly then, "Is he scrawny? Dumb bowl haircut?"

"Yes. Both of those."

"What else do you remember about him?"

Bucky looked at the window again, lifting a hand to lightly trace the pattern of one of the raindrops as it made its descent down the glass. "He's… showing me a book…"

* * *

"_Come on, Steve! Let me see!"_

_Bucky was no physical match for Steve. Already at eight years old Bucky was bigger and taller than his friend, but that didn't stop either of them. Steve ran from Bucky on twig-like legs, but he kept a good pace for a while. Bucky jogged in order to stay behind Steve, but he didn't care. They were having fun. _

_Steve waved the notebook in his hand high above his head; the wad of blank paper inside was thick and it had a cover of black leather. Secretly, Steve wanted Bucky to take it from him and look inside. He wanted Bucky to be proud of what he'd drawn. But for the moment they were content playing. _

_Eventually, Bucky could see that Steve was getting winded. He stopped in his tracks, and called Steve over to him._

"_Okay, Rogers, you win," Bucky let himself topple to the grassy ground. "I'm dead, I'm beaten."_

_Steve was bent double trying to catch his breath, but he managed a triumphant grin all the same. "Here you go, then."_

_Steve held out his sketchpad, which Bucky grabbed, suddenly bouncing with energy again. He flicked through the pages; little unfinished sketches of animals, completed life drawings (a few of which were of Bucky), and other still life and abstracts. One in particular caught Bucky's attention (one aside from the portraits of him, that is), and it was of a raindrop. It was clearly the most recently drawn, and it was simple, but it was the simplicity that made it attractive. It made Bucky's heart swell with pride._

_Bucky put his arm around Steve's shoulders. "Damn, Rogers. You are something else."_

"_Thanks, Barnes."_

* * *

Bucky considered Steve, who was alternating between looking distractedly at the road and looking curiously back at him. "You should draw more."

Steve chuckled. He didn't know what Bucky had remembered, but he guessed it was something to do with his unwavering and sometimes obsessively loyal support of Steve's artistic inclinations when they were both in school.

"I'm a little out of practice," Steve admitted. "Seventy years out of practice, in fact."

Bucky's face fell a little. "Yeah."

After that, most of the remaining journey was spent in silence. Occasionally, Bucky had a question about Tony, which Steve was happy to answer. But he knew Bucky's involvement in the Starks' deaths was causing him some anxiety beneath the stoic façade on his face. It made Steve realise that not only was he going to have to help Bucky come to terms with his lost identity, but also with what he did under the guise of his new one.

* * *

Tony Stark clearly hadn't spared any expense when he'd looked for a new home after his brush with the Mandarin.

His new abode was almost panoramic. Painted pure white, with a flat grey roof and wide sweeping windows, it looked to Steve like a highly impractical design for a house. But he knew Tony would always look for more than simply function.

After getting out of the car, Bucky's eyes were wide, his pupils pinpricks. He kept his head down as he followed Steve to Tony's doorstep.

"Bucky?"

Bucky made a noncommittal sound in response. Steve stopped and took a moment to make sure Bucky wasn't getting anxious. His breathing was fast, but otherwise he looked to be in control.

"Bucky, are you okay?"

"Yeah, Steve. I'll be fine. I just want to get my damn arm sorted out."

Steve nodded.

The door was surrounded by frosted glass, and a security camera blinked down at them with a steady whirring sound.

Before Steve could even push the doorbell, the door swung open.

"Captain," Tony said, smiling and holding his arms out. "It's certainly been a while."

"Hey, Tony. Sorry for springing this on you. But we need to-"

"I suspected you'd be bringing a friend along, no need to explain. Let me guess, you need a pop culture joke explained?"

Steve looked behind him. He could see from Bucky's scowl that he was getting frustrated, with being out in the open like this and from Tony's rambling.

"Can we just come inside before we cut to the usual crap? Please."

Tony stopped dead. He looked beyond Steve to where Bucky was casting nervous glances either side of him. Something twitched in Tony's face, but it was gone in a second and replaced with a sincere grin. "Sure. My humble apologies. Do either of you fellas fancy a drink?"


	4. Am I Not Human?

**Sorry this one took a little longer than usual. **

**I'm guilty as charged - I've been caught up watching Once Upon A Time**

**Anyway, enjoy! ^^**

* * *

Tony had requested that Bucky strip down to just his vest and tracksuit pants, to Bucky's immense discomfort. Steve noticed he kept the metal arm close to his body, as if he was either trying not to draw attention to it, or he was trying to protect it. Or maybe even both.

"I tell you what though," Tony commented, as he gestured for Bucky to sit down across from him at his work bench. He did so, and Tony gently took the metal arm and outstretched it on the table. "That is one gorgeous piece of tech."

Bucky had been looking miserable as soon as they'd stepped inside. And at that comment, his scowl only increased more, which was something Steve hadn't thought was possible.

"Not talking, huh? That's okay too. But I am going to have to insist you tell me about maintenance. How often was routine" Tony asked, while he pulled up a wheeled table cluttered with various tools and the odd tangle of wires. He switched on the lamp that was placed at the end of the table.

Panic began to creep into Steve's mind, and evidently into Bucky's, as his expression became less of a scowl and more of a grimace.

Bucky faltered. "Routine? I, uh, don't… I don't know. Whenever repairs needed to be done, they were done."

Tony nodded slowly. "Mm-hmm. Well, then for the sake of saving time I'll just assume that those repairs were also paired up with some sort of routine maintenance check and update. I won't ask any questions, don't worry," he added, when he saw how petrified Bucky was beginning to look. "I'm not the question-asking type."

Steve scoffed.

Under Bucky's steely gaze, Tony began by removing three of the segments making up the shoulder, revealing a blinking cave of wires and microchips. The metal glistened in the glow of the lamp.

It made Steve highly uncomfortable to look at it. While he didn't want to admit it, he found the arm quite stunning. But at the same time the images it sent through his head made him sick to his stomach. _The impact from his fall from the train being so severe that the damage to his arm was irreparable, Bucky lying in the snow half-dead, HYDRA's scientists dragging him back to their base and meddling with his mind until he became nothing but a killer_. Steve could feel himself burning with anger.

"I tell you what; HYDRA spared no expense in the construction of this thing." Tony turned the head of the lamp towards the middle section of the arm, leaving the shoulder's innards exposed. "I'll give 'em one thing, their knowledge of robotics really is quite impressive. I'd even say it's a tough act to follow for SHIELD."

Bucky was digging his fingers into the arm of his chair, and the fingers of the metal arm clenched stiffly in turn. He was looking everywhere but at Tony, and as a last resort, he locked gazes with Steve. His expression was desperate.

"Uh, Tony," Steve said, walking over to get a closer look at what was going on.

"Sorry, that's probably a sore subject, isn't it? But what I was getting at is that this prosthetic, while very impressive, was originally constructed at a time when this level of cybernetics was extremely expensive and hardly even possible in the first place. It's clearly been upgraded over time, but the problem with an upgrade rather than a direct replacement is that there's still some of the old stuff there.

"It's like if I'd kept my Mark One suit. I could smooth down the edges and give it a paint job all I liked, but the fundamentals would still be the same. Bulky, crude, and extremely annoying to maintain."

Steve nodded, taking a moment to consider what he'd said.

Bucky was also lost in thought. After a moment, it was him who broke the silence. "So what you're saying is that I need a replacement."

"Basically, yeah."

"How long would that take to construct?" Steve asked; he knew where this was going. He didn't want to hang around here any longer than was necessary.

Tony sighed melodramatically, tilting his head in thought. "Ohhh, I'd estimate only about two days."

"And I assume we'd have to stay here in the meantime?"

"Well, yeah. I don't want to ask you to take a pain in the ass journey here and back twice." Tony looked slightly affronted at Steve's tone. "I can easily accommodate over ten people in this little hovel of mine for two years without running out of space. You could stay here for a week and never even see me, though where would be the fun in that?"

Steve ignored him. He turned to Bucky, and Tony took this as a cue to leave them to go and retrieve something from the other side of the room.

"What do you think?" Steve asked.

Bucky looked solemn. But there was a curious hint of hope in his face all the same. "I don't know. But I do want things to get better."

"You and me both, Buck."

"… would you stay here with me?"

Steve was surprised, but he didn't show it. "Of course I would."

"I don't want to be alone anymore, Steve." Bucky's breath was laboured as his eyes were suddenly overcome with fear. His right hand made a movement towards Steve, but he stopped halfway in indecision.

Steve met him halfway by taking the metal hand in his own. Bucky's eyes widened for a moment, but they were soon overcome with varying emotions, each one battling for their place in dominance.

"You won't be," Steve reassured him; he could see Bucky was getting upset again. He had been prepared for this since they stepped inside the lab. "I won't leave you."

Bucky just nodded. But he looked grateful, and at the moment that's all Steve could hope for. He stole another glance at the exposed wires and circuits on Bucky's shoulder. Tony talking about one of Bucky's body parts as if it were nothing more than a replaceable piece of equipment made him uneasy.

He scanned the room and found Tony at the opposite end to them, rummaging around in storage cabinets for something. He also appeared to be talking to himself.

"_Shall I prepare quarters, sir_?" quipped JARVIS suddenly.

Bucky flinched and tensed himself up, accidentally knocking some tools off the table. "What is that?"

"Oh," Steve frowned, slightly unsure himself. "That's, uh, Tony's house."

"I'll have you know that JARVIS is an esteemed colleague and a very reliable buddy of mine." Tony joined them, and then looked up and addressed the ceiling. "Two will be sufficient, I think. Give them each a cooler. Their drink offer still stands, after all."

"_I hadn't assumed otherwise, sir_."

Bucky was still tense, so Steve put a hand on his shoulder. "Are you okay staying on your own tonight?"

"Yeah… I'll be okay."

"Am I interrupting a moment here or are we good to go on operation appendage-replacement?" Tony asked, studying the power tools he'd brought over with him.

"Okay, it sounds good, we'll stay. But for no longer than we need to." Steve sighed. "Sorry, Tony. We just have things to sort out."

Tony gave a sincere smile and smacked Steve on the back. "No worries, Spangles." He turned to Bucky, and procured a measuring tape from his pocket. "For the moment I'll do some repairs to make it easier on you until the new one is done, but before that I'll need to do a little dissecting and measuring. The dissecting being largely metaphorical, obviously."

* * *

Later that evening, Tony had made himself comfortable on his couch, working on the measurements and notes on Bucky's arm on what looked like to Steve to be a frame-less computer so thin you probably wouldn't be able to see it if you looked at it from the side. Steve himself was sitting upright on the other side of the couch, skimming over the pages of a book he'd found.

Bucky had retreated to his room for the night shortly after Tony had made them some food, having only moved it around the plate with his fork for a while. Steve was getting worried. He resolved to try and talk him into eating something later.

"So," Tony began, looking up from his computer. "You're responsible for the basic annihilation of SHIELD?"

"I guess I am."

"I gotta tell you, I'm proud. Of you and Nat. Way to stand up to the man."

"That's not really what I was trying to accomplish, Tony." Steve buried his face in his hands, trying to rub the fatigue from his eyes.

Tony put the computer down. The satire in his face was replaced with concern. "You look awful, Steve. I know this is ridiculous coming from me, but you really look like you need some sleep."

Steve gave a small chuckle. "I know I do. But I can't, not with Bucky the way he is."

"And Bucky… you really think you can help him?"

"I do."

Tony sighed.

From the flat screen imbedded within the table in front of the couch, Tony drew up some files. He opened one. It showed the personnel file of a SHIELD worker back from a year after it had been founded. There was a thick red X through the worker's picture and name.

"This is just one out of over two dozen credited assassinations committed by the Winter Soldier," Tony began, and held up a hand. "Steve, before you lay it on me, I have to know that you know what you're getting yourself into here."

"I know what I'm getting into, Tony. I know what he's done, but none of that matters anymore."

"Of course it does! Steve, I'm not trying to be the bad guy here, but do you really think that after 70 years of conditioning and meddling and God knows what else, James Barnes will just emerge from it all completely unscathed?"

Steve pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to fight off a migraine. But despite the growing ache in his head, his voice came out loud and filled with anger. "No, I don't! For all I know, my closest friend could be nothing more than an echo. But I don't care, Tony. I'm going to help him if it kills me."

"That's exactly what I'm afraid of."


	5. Fill My Heart

**I'm tired, but this one would not allow me to sleep until it was finished. This story also exists within the same canon as my previous Steve and Bucky fic, Start of the Line, so I will reference that a lot more once Bucky's memories start resurfacing.  
**

**Enjoy the chapter, folks :3**

* * *

The second night spent with Bucky was even worse than the first.

Tony had gone to bed – or rather, padded upstairs to work on things in his room under the guise of going to bed – at around midnight. Steve hadn't realised how late he'd stayed up in Tony's company, not talking much but nonetheless feeling secure, but still on guard.

Steve knew it was late, but he had gone to the kitchen and put whatever snack foods he could find in Tony's college boy kitchen cupboards on a plate. He poured a glass of water.

"Third time lucky," Steve muttered to himself.

He found Bucky's room with help from JARVIS, and knocked on the partly-open door. There was a small noise of acknowledgement from inside, and Steve pushed the door open.

Nothing broken or strewn about this time, Steve noted. Bucky was half-lying down on the bed and propped up against the headboard, eyes closed and both hands resting on his stomach. He wasn't asleep, and he was mumbling something unintelligible to himself. Steve hadn't realised he'd been holding his breath until he released it in relief.

"Bucky?"

Bucky's eyes snapped open, and he sat up, looking almost stunned at his momentary relaxation. His eyes were bloodshot and he was swaying slightly. Steve could tell he was exhausted to the bone.

"Bucky, I brought you some food. You… you have to eat something."

"I'm not… hungry." The subject of food always made Bucky's face wrinkle in confusion, and he didn't even look like he knew why. But there was something different in his face this time.

"When was the last time you ate, Buck?"

His breath was coming in laboured gasps from his mouth as Bucky looked down at the bed sheets, visibly ashamed and confused. "I don't remember."

Steve felt his panic levels raise. He rushed over to the bed and put the plate down on the bedside table. He put a hand firmly on Bucky's shoulder, trying to steady him. He looked like he was going to pass out. Beads of sweat were beginning to trickle down from his forehead.

"Bucky, you don't look well," Steve put his other hand on Bucky's forehead, terrified when he felt the heat before he even touched the skin. "Bucky? Can you hear me?"

"I… don't feel… right, S-Steve. I never feel… right…"

Steve gently slapped Bucky's cheek. "Bucky, focus on me. Please!"

To Steve's relief, Bucky did. But his eyes were unfocused and frightened, his face twitching and body beginning to tremble. He looked deathly pale. Steve moved the hand on Bucky's shoulder to around his neck to keep him upright. After a brief fumble behind him for the glass, Steve found it and brought the water to Bucky's lips.

"Come on, buddy," Steve pleaded softly, having to tip the glass himself to make Bucky drink. "You're dehydrated and starved and you haven't been sleeping. Damn it, Buck, this is only going to make everything worse…"

"You… you don't understand… I can't do it, I can't, I don't want to…"

"Do what? Come on, just drink, please…" Steve was getting desperate. But Bucky, even in his state, seemed to pick up on it. He regarded Steve with a glassy, petrified stare, but after a moment took the glass in his own shaking hands. They had to be guided by Steve's as he downed the water in one swig.

Steve smiled, trying to extinguish the growing lump in his throat. "There, see? That wasn't so bad, was it?"

Bucky spluttered, having not swallowed it all properly. He was still dehydrated, and clearly still delirious, but Steve was thankful for at least a small victory. For now he had liquid in his system, which was something he'd desperately needed. Steve had to support Bucky with both hands then, as the Soldier slumped back in near-unconsciousness.

"Come on, Buck, don't go to sleep yet," Steve could see he was shivering despite his temperature; he still had the vest on from earlier, and once again Bucky had fully opened the window. The cold night breeze was filling the air with a sharp bite. Steve gently took the repaired bionic arm and draped it over his shoulder, supporting Bucky's whole weight on top of his own. He helped Bucky onto his feet. "As much as I want you to, just let me get you taken care of first, okay?"

Bucky had regained some lucidity by then. His brow was creased in a frown and his heavy-lidded eyes still looked fearful. But he nodded.

Still supporting Bucky's weight, Steve shrugged off his own jacket and despite immediately feeling the chill in the air, he gave it to Bucky, who gratefully took it and curled it around himself. Steve guided him to the bed again, and made sure he was propped up and in a comfortable enough position to allow him to sleep the night. After making sure Bucky was secure, Steve rushed from the room and into the bathroom. He held a flannel underneath the cold tap for a moment before taking it back to the room. Bucky was almost out cold, sweat glistening on his face and twitches making it shiver.

Steve checked his temperature again; the heat was the same. So he pressed the cold flannel against Bucky's skin, mopping up the sweat and cooling him down.

"What are you doing to yourself, Buck…?" Steve whispered.

Bucky shifted, his head turning repeatedly in obvious discomfort. More splutters made his chest heave with the effort of his laboured breathing. Steve could work out then that Bucky was muttering something again.

Bucky's eyes opened partly to see Steve's confusion, and he tried again, "… s-stay with… me… please."

"Y-you want me to stay here?"

Bucky nodded weakly, coughs racking his chest and sweat once again glazing his skin. "… p-please…"

Steve smiled with simultaneous compliance and sadness. He knelt down beside the bed, watched gratefully with half-open eyes by Bucky.

"T-tell me… about us."

"About us?"

Another nod. Bucky turned his face to the ceiling, closing his eyes tight. "… talk to m-me. P-please…"

"Oh, well…"

Steve couldn't remember how much time passed as he spoke, but he told his old friend everything he remembered. He told him about their first meeting as kids.

* * *

"_My name's Bucky."_

"… _Steve."_

* * *

He told him stories about when they were kids, everything they would do together. All the times Bucky would defend him or join him when the bullies were too big so at least he wouldn't feel alone. All the times Bucky helped him when he cried.

* * *

"_I'm too small! I can't ever do anything for myself! I'm just a useless baby, Bucky…"_

"_Hold on there, pal. You are everything but a useless baby. You're actually my personal hero, Mr Rogers."_

"_I… am…?"_

"_Uh, yeah! How could you not be anyone's?"_

* * *

Bucky drifted in and out of consciousness all night; in and out of rational thought; in and out of hysteria. Tears flowed from his eyes when he woke up fully conscious once, shouting at people who weren't there, screaming at them to leave him alone. Steve had had to hold him as he sobbed. The flailing of the metal arm's hand had left scratches of varying depths down Steve's shoulder at some point during the night, but Steve wasn't sure when.

At the break of dawn, Steve was drifting off to sleep himself. He hadn't left Bucky's bedside and was sitting with his knees drawn up to his chin against the wall, facing Bucky's bed to keep an eye on him. He hadn't stirred for an hour, which was the longest space of time yet.

Déjà vu crept into his mind as he checked the clock. It was early, but an acceptable time to be up. His muscles ached as he got tiredly to his feet. The gashes on his shoulder stung as he moved. Steve bit his lip to keep himself from groaning in pain.

Steve took a moment to look over Bucky. He still looked feverish and malnourished, and the bed sheets were damp with sweat, but he was finally sleeping. After everything that had happened since Bucky arrived, that was a victory.

Steve mentally kicked himself when he saw that he'd forgotten to close the window. After all the commotion trying to fight it, the very source of the cold had completely slipped his mind.

Steve crept out of the room, leaving the door open so he could listen for any sound. He paused in the middle of the hallway, weighing his options. He eventually came to the reluctant conclusion that he had to go to Tony.

By the time he was outside Tony's bedroom door, Steve was panting and almost doubled over in pain from his shoulder. The wounds hadn't seemed bad when he'd noticed them, but after some movement they were agony, and one of them had opened up.

Steve knocked. "Tony?"

There were muffled footsteps, followed by the door being swung open. Tony was in a colourful dressing gown tightly tied around his waist that reached down to his knees, and apparently nothing else. "Ah, morning, Spangles."

"Shut up, Stark," Steve wheezed. He was finding it difficult to speak. "I need your help."

It was becoming a familiar sight, seeing concern replace the light-heartedness in Tony's face. He stepped out of his room so he could see Steve's shoulder better. "Oh shit, Steve, what happened to you?"

"It was Bucky. He's not well, he's exhausted and malnourished and it made him delirious. I stayed with him all night and… he did this to me during an episode."

Tony tentatively touched one of the scratches, drawing a yell from Steve. Giving Steve an exaggerated angry sigh, Tony ushered him towards the kitchen. After a bit of digging, Tony procured a first-aid box from a drawer. He cranked it open and withdrew some gauze, clean cloth and some pure alcohol.

Steve chuckled suddenly, causing him to wince. He gestured to the alcohol. "I'd say that's probably the only bottle of the stuff that's lasted more than five minutes around here."

* * *

After Steve's wounds were cleaned up and bandaged, Tony ordered – or forced – Steve to lie on the couch for a while.

"Trust me; in my line of work you see a lot of injuries like that. Metal's a bitch. What you need, old man, is rest."

"What I need," argued Steve irritably. "Is for Bucky to be okay. I need to go and see if he's alright. You didn't see him last night."

Tony sat down beside him. "You're right, I didn't. And I'm sure it was tragic. But Steve, for god's sake, you've got to take care of yourself."

"I don't want another lecture from you, Stark."

"I never give lectures with a clear head, what I'm trying to do is talk some damn sense into you. Look… Steve. I get that you want to help him. And I'm being honest here, I do too. But you've got to take care of yourself too, man."

Steve opened his mouth to retort, but he sighed, defeated. Minutes passed, before Steve sat up straight again. "Thanks, Tony. But I'm sorry; I won't stop until I've helped him remember. And I'm doing it my way."

He stood up and turned around, intending to head for his own room to get another jacket to cover up evidence of the wounds before returning to Bucky.

But Bucky was standing in front of him, leaning against the door-frame. He looked weak and exhausted, but his eyes were now filled with a burning fear.

Seeing the blood-soaked bandages, Bucky's face fell, and he blinked in confusion and guilt. "Did I do that to you?"


	6. Titan Dune

**First things first, I'm sorry this one took so long. I haven't had much of a chance to write over the past week.**

**I also changed all the chapter names to Two Steps From Hell song titles, because Two Steps From Hell is pretty cool.**

**Enjoy ^^**

* * *

"_Do I ever get too rough?" Bucky asked one day, as the two of them sat in the furthest corner of the schoolyard. _

_Steve had been looking up to the clouds, his mind lost and wandering. Bucky's question took him by surprise. "What?"_

"_With you, I mean." Bucky was picking apart a fallen leaf, throwing the pieces in every which way onto the grass. "Teacher was saying I play too rough with other kids sometimes."_

_Steve nodded. He knew what Bucky meant now, and he knew his friend meant well. But it still made Steve's chest ache with embarrassment and shame. Bucky shouldn't have to ask if being himself when they played together was too rough on Steve's frail form. _

"_You're not, don't worry. I… I actually like that you don't treat me the way other kids treat me. As if I'm made of glass or something. You treat me like a person."_

"_I have no reason not to. You know, unless you're actually an alien under there." Bucky plucked the leaf to its skeleton and let his hand fall to the grass. "I just don't want to hurt you."_

* * *

Steve looked around rapidly for something to cover up the bandages, but the damage was already done.

"Bucky…"

"No… no, don't start. Please don't start… not again."

Steve tried to approach him, but every time he took a step forward, Bucky just took a step back.

"Bucky, man, it's alright," Tony chipped in, approaching Bucky from another angle with urgent strides. "Just come and sit down, okay? I'll get you a drink and some aspirin and you'll be right as rain in no time."

But Bucky showed no signs of co-operating, as he regarded Tony with eyes like that of a frightened rabbit. Steve's heart skipped when he noticed Bucky was clenching his other hand tight enough to draw blood.

"It hurts. My head hurts, and it won't stop hurting, it won't _shut up_… and now I've hurt you."

"You're still sick," Steve's shoulder was burning, but he was trying desperately not to let it show. "Come on, I'll take you back to your room-"

"I don't want to be alone."

Steve's heart stung; he should have known better than to think Bucky would just suddenly sink into a peaceful sleep. He'd probably had a lucid moment while Steve was getting his wounds seen to, saw Steve wasn't there, and panicked. "I know you don't."

Bucky looked away for a moment, and when he cast his gaze back it was one riddled with guilt towards Steve. "I'm sorry."

"For this?" Steve shrugged his shoulder, causing another wave of pain to shoot through his body. He tried to change his tone to something resembling humour. "It's okay, Bucky. It's… it's just a flesh wound."

"'Tis but a scratch," said Tony seriously.

Steve shot him a dirty look. But he was pleased to see the atmosphere was lightening even a little. But then there was still the matter of Bucky. He hadn't had nearly enough sleep to satisfy someone who usually does, let alone someone who had barely slept at all in three months. And while his colouring was better, his fever clearly hadn't improved.

"I want to stay with you." Bucky said quietly. He seemed to have regained his footing, and was walking slowly towards the two Avengers.

"I know," Steve closed the gap between them, smiling and putting a hand on Bucky's shoulder. "Things will get better, Bucky. I promise you. Once we get your arm finished, we can move past this."

"I hope so… Steve."

* * *

Tony insisted on having Bucky present for the construction of the new arm, despite not really needing him as everything about the cybernetics and construction had been thoroughly analysed by JARVIS already.

Bucky was compliant, but still reluctant. He was tense every time Tony went near him, so Steve hung around them to keep an eye on Bucky's anxiety levels. Once or twice Tony would get a little too enthusiastic, and Steve had to remind him not to be overwhelming.

"You know," Tony remarked from behind a heavy mask as he worked with the blowtorch. "A splash of gold and red paint once it's done would really make this thing come alive."

"I… think I'll keep it the way it was."

Tony smiled at Bucky's surprisingly conversational tone, so he decided to continue. "Are you sure? Aren't you tired of the same old design after so long?"

"I haven't thought about it."

"Well, maybe you should. It's the 21st century, remember. Aesthetics are important."

Bucky's eyes narrowed, but for a second he looked thoughtful. Tony saw his eyes flicker to Steve for a moment.

"Then… maybe add some blue to the star."

* * *

The evening was spent with Bucky half-lying on the couch next to Steve. Everyone was doing their own thing; Tony was working, Steve sketching on a borrowed notepad, and Bucky was resting.

His condition was more or less the same, with the temperature rising and falling in equally alarming rates and his breathing laboured. Steve decided to draw the line when he noticed that despite Bucky's best efforts not to fall asleep, he kept on drifting in and out of consciousness.

"Maybe we should hit the hay." Tony suggested, taking the words from Steve's mouth.

Bucky clenched his eyes shut and didn't answer.

"Bucky?"

His eyes opened slowly, as though they were made of lead. "Sorry, I- I can't. Not again."

"You can't what?"

"Sleep."

Tony bit his lip and his eyes clouded with sympathy. He looked away. "Nightmares, huh?"

"Memories." Then Bucky chuckled wheezily, with a deep frown creasing his forehead. "But I suppose they're the same thing. Nightmares, memories, I can't tell the difference anymore…"

"I'll be with you all night, Buck. Okay?" Steve said softly.

Bucky looked at his hands. He spread the bionic one and watched the segments recalibrate themselves with a series of whirring clicks. "I'm going to hurt you again. I don't want to hurt you again."

"You won't," Steve insisted, moving closer to Bucky. He reached out for Bucky's metal hand. After touching it first, to make sure Bucky wouldn't react badly, he turned his own hand over to align his fingers with Bucky's. The metal fingers twitched, but they stayed still. "See? You won't hurt me, I promise."

Bucky's eyes glazed over with worry and he sighed. "You don't know what I'm capable of. Not really."

"You're right, I probably don't. But it doesn't matter."

"Steve…"

"You're not going to get a refusal from this guy," Tony said absent-mindedly, his face hidden behind his work. His tone turned sympathetic when he added after a pause, "And trust me, pal; after New York I was going through a rough patch, to put it simply. And what I learned is that sometimes, it's just nice to have someone."

* * *

To Steve's relief, Bucky fell asleep not five minutes after he'd collapsed atop the bed sheets.

Steve watched over him for a while, keeping an eye out for irritation or restlessness. Bucky twisted and turned for the first hour or so, all while muttering unintelligibly to himself, before settling down into almost complete stillness.

Steve himself was feeling the burn of prolonged fatigue, and he'd promised he would stay with Bucky all night. He ended up in the same position he'd slept in the night before, sitting with his knees drawn up to his chin against the bare wall facing Bucky's bed.

An undetermined length of time passed between when Steve last remembered being lucid to when there was a knock at the bedroom door that jolted him out of his sleep. A pale light filtered through the curtains, but not enough to fully illuminate the room.

Steve blinked heavy eyelids, and stood up. He immediately looked over at Bucky; he had curled himself up and his back was facing Steve, but he looked almost as if he'd been knocked out. Steve was going to try and let him sleep for as long as he could.

He quietly padded over to the door, still trying to fully wake himself up, and opened it partly to reveal Tony.

"Steve, I need to talk to you."

The urgency in Tony's voice managed to wake Steve up. He took another look behind him at Bucky before slipping out the door and closing it behind him.

"I got a call from Nat," Tony continued as soon as he saw he had Steve's attention. "Bucky is in danger."


	7. Tristan

**I will try and keep the chapters fairly regular after last time.**** I'm on my summer holidays now so I have absolutely no excuse to leave you guys hanging this time.  
**

**Enjoy the chapter, folks ^.-**

* * *

"It's kind of no secret nowadays that SHIELD and HYDRA are still in conflict with eachother," Tony began. "But thanks to Natasha, we have wind of some pretty bad stuff that actually is supposed to be secret."

Steve thought he had a sneaking suspicion as to where this was going in relation to Bucky. "Is she still in Dubai?"

"No, and it's a pretty good thing that she isn't. She and Hawkeye managed to intercept the information on their way back."

"Okay. And what is the information?"

"Well, to put it bluntly, HYDRA wants Bucky back."

Steve's heart leapt into his mouth, but he didn't feel much surprise. He knew something like this was bound to happen given everything that had transpired. _But why did it have to happen now_.

Tony continued without waiting for a reply, "Well, not exactly HYDRA, more like a bunch of HYDRA extremists. Extremists and former members. They think that having the Winter Soldier back in their grasp would give them the leverage they need to put HYDRA back on its feet. Also known as; you and Bucky just can't seem to catch a break."

"Yeah," Steve said absently, rubbing his tired eyes. "We can't."

Tony hunched over in order to catch Steve's downward gaze. "Hey, come on, it's okay. The good news is that they don't know where Bucky is. We'll ask him when he wakes up about what he'd been doing the whole time before he came to you. If he's managed to evade them for this long I doubt they'll find a hit now. "

Steve didn't answer. He just looked back at Bucky's bedroom door, an earnest frown plastered to his face.

"We just need to keep our guards up, Cap." Tony clapped Steve on the shoulder in a gesture that Steve felt was less reassuring and more aggravating. "I'm not saying these guys aren't a threat – I wouldn't have told you about them if they weren't – but I'm also saying they aren't going to get anywhere any time soon. Their numbers are declining and they have no leads on either of you two."

"And we need to make sure it stays that way. Call Natasha again, ask her to do some digging."

"No need. I already have JARVIS doing a little digging as we speak."

Steve nodded, sighing heavily. "Okay, well, tell me what you come up with. In the meantime, maybe we should stay here for a little longer. It's safer."

"It's up to you." Tony frowned. "Are you going to tell him?"

"What, if he doesn't already know? Of course I am."

"Look, don't take this the wrong way, but are you sure? Say this had been me finding out that on top of everything else with the Mandarin, Loki and his army had decided to invade New York again. I don't think I could've taken it."

Steve shook his head. "I get what you're trying to say but is that really the same thing? I don't know, Tony. What if he has a bad episode? Disappears again before I can stop him? If he leaves and doesn't know he's basically being hunted-"

"He won't leave," Tony interrupted. "Haven't you seen him? He wants to be here. Well, not here-here, but here with you. Just see how he is when he wakes up. If he's looking better, then… maybe it would be best if we told him."

"I think it would."

* * *

According to JARVIS, the replacement arm would be ready by the end of the day.

Tony was ecstatic. "I got him to add a little splash of colour. At Bucky's request, of course."

"Something with a bit of the typical Iron Man flair, I'm guessing?"

"Nothing of the sort, I assure you."

Tony had made some breakfast. Bacon, scrambled eggs and some toast. Steve's nerves prevented his stomach from taking much in, but he made up a full plate for Bucky, in the desperate hopes the Soldier would have found his own appetite by now.

It was almost ten in the morning by the time Bucky found them in the kitchen. The dark rings under his eyes seemed even more prominent in the wake of a proper night's sleep, and his hair was unkempt. He had put a hoodie over his bed clothes.

Tony immediately started making another round of coffee. He addressed Bucky casually, "Morning, Sleeping Beauty."

"Hey," Steve said, getting up from his chair. "I would have woken you up, but I wanted to let you sleep."

Bucky looked at him, gratitude showing from behind the fatigue. "Thanks. I'm… actually glad you did."

"I'm happy you slept well."

"So am I."

"Do you want some breakfast?" Tony asked, holding up the plate. "It's getting cold over here."

Bucky tilted his head. After a moment, he slowly nodded. "Okay."

Steve felt his chest fill with relief. As Bucky sat down and Tony presented him with food and some coffee, Steve took a second to look him over. Bucky's skin had regained some colour and he was no longer sweating as profusely as he had been. His gait was more even and he looked perkier, despite the obvious need to catch up on sleep.

Steve sat down next to Bucky. He had been debating for hours whether or not to tell Bucky immediately about what Tony had told him. In the end, he figured he had no right to keep it from him. That is if he didn't already know.

"Bucky… I'm sorry for springing this on you, but maybe we should stay here for a little while longer."

Bucky paused in bringing the coffee mug to his lips. "Is something wrong with the arm?"

"No, it's nothing like that. We just… we think you're in danger, Buck."

Bucky's face was blank for a moment, until he seemed to be overcome with a sudden rush of terror. He looked down at the table. "… They want me back, don't they?"

"Yeah… we think they do. How long have you known they were looking for you?"

"I haven't known anything. But it… it was difficult imagining they wouldn't look for me. Especially now that I'd… be especially useful in them gaining strength again."

Tony leant on the table. "As I said to Cap, you two can stay here for as much time as you need. But if they knew you had Bucky with you, they'd have come for you already. I reckon you wouldn't have gone the first night before they decided to take their prize."

"We could stay with Sam," Steve suggested.

The terror on Bucky's face flared even more, but he kept his voice steady. "It's up to you."

"Or not, we don't have to if-"

"Guys." Tony interrupted, holding up a hand. "This can only end in tears. Now look. Let's all just relax for the moment, and finish up on Bucky's new arm. Once we actually know everything, then we can decide exactly what to do about it. There's no use running around like headless chickens until we know all the facts." He looked up at the ceiling. "JARVIS, how long until you're able to decode the files Natasha sent us?"

"_Approximately six hours at the least, sir._"

"Hear that? Six hours, so please… for your own sakes, both of you just try to relax."

* * *

Steve spent half of the day wrapped up in his own worries. The other half was spent keeping a watchful eye on Bucky.

At some point, Bucky had found the notepad Steve had taken to sketching in over the past few days. He flipped through the pages, varying emotions crossing his face at each drawing. Steve had moved over to look at the pad over Bucky's shoulder.

"You're good." Bucky remarked, pausing on a detailed sketch of a monkey holding the Captain America shield.

"Oh, that one. I was trying to recreate something I drew years ago, not long after I first became Captain America," Steve replied lightly, happy Bucky was showing interest in Steve's drawings like he used to. "You weren't there then. They had me doing stage performances promoting war duties."

Bucky smiled. "You have the face for it."

Steve was surprised. He chuckled. "Yeah, I suppose I do. You know, you used to do this back when we were kids – steal my sketch book and out my drawings to the world. You were my biggest fan back then. Always have been, as a matter of fact."

"I wish I could remember."

"I do too. But you're doing good, really."

Bucky nodded, continuing once more to rifle through the pages. After a while, he said quietly; "I went to see the Captain America exhibit."

"You did?" Steve didn't know how to feel; _how confusing must it have been to see your past and not recognise it?_ "What did you see?"

"I saw you," Bucky paused, licking his lips. "And I saw… myself. I looked happy standing next to you."

"I was happy standing next to you, too."

"That was the moment that I decided I'd come to you for help. I hadn't known what to believe until I saw it with my own eyes."

Steve put a hand on Bucky's shoulder, squeezing it gently. "What do you believe now?"

Bucky looked up, partly closing the pad and letting the pages fall onto his fingers. He turned to meet Steve's gaze, a small smile on his mouth. "I believe you."


	8. Calamity

**Okay! **

**So after I make a disclaimer saying I'll try to make the chapters more regular, thus follows the longest wait between chapters yet. I'm really sorry I took so long getting this one out. I've been pretty sick for a while, and even though I've spent most of that time lying in bed thinking of ideas for later chapters and possible sequels once it's done, I haven't been in the best state to go on the computer. I have already started the next chapter, so you will definitely get that one pretty soon.  
**

**I've also changed my pen name, after watching a certain episode of the Avengers Assemble cartoon show while lying on the sofa being ill. It's a brilliant show. You should check it now if you haven't already ^.^  
**

**Enjoy the chapter, and sorry again it took so long.**

* * *

"Okay, tell me honestly. Do you love it or do you love it?"

Bucky sat at his usual place at Tony's workbench. He seemed to ignore Tony altogether as he got used to the feeling in his left side return to him. The new cybernetic arm wasn't that much different from the old one in its shape and design. The differences at first glance were that the metal itself was different; shinier and smooth, making the way the segments in the shoulder moved seeming more fluid than before. Tony had also honoured Bucky's request for aesthetics. The star was now painted red, and was the center of a dark blue circle surrounded by a white rim.

There was no way Steve could know for himself just by looking, so he had to listen to Tony for information on the internal changes.

"I've upgraded the model so it's nice and modern, and I've also added a few extra surprises."

"Surprises?"

Tony took the hand gently and turned it over, spreading the fingers to reveal a circular device embedded in the palm. It looked similar to the design of the Iron Man armour's repulsor rays. "Amongst other things; electrical discharge. Very handy for toasting marshmallows. I adapted it from my own armour."

Steve's brow was creased and he bit his lip. "Is that the best idea right now, Tony?"

Bucky kept his head down. "I don't want a loaded weapon attached to my body. I could hurt someone again."

"Don't worry, it's all good. You control the intensity of the charge, and you control whether to use it or not. If it makes you feel any better, I can link it up to JARVIS's sensors and he can keep tabs on things until you sort things out. I just think something a little more practical in the way of self-defense would be a good thing," Tony caught Steve's eye. "Especially now."

Tony walked away to clear up some of the clatter that had built up around the workbench over the past few days, leaving Bucky still examining the arm. Steve sat down across from him.

"I can't help but find the new paint job familiar."

Bucky nodded. He looked contented even underneath a thin veil of fear. "What you do is… is good. I wanted to be reminded of good."

"Well, that in itself is good."

"Every time I looked at what they'd given me," Bucky's voice was soft, but it was trembling. His face was full of anger and confusion as he locked his gaze with Steve's. "I felt like I'd been branded. I- I needed to get rid of that."

"I think I know what you mean." Steve put his hand on Bucky's metal forearm without thinking. "Well, no, I can't ever know exactly what you mean. But I know what it's like to feel branded."

Bucky looked at the hand on his arm, and then back at Steve. For a moment he looked uncomfortable, and his shoulders moved in a way that made Steve think he was about to pull away, but he didn't. His face relaxed as suddenly as it flared up. "When you were made to promote war bonds?"

"Yeah. You would have hated it, actually. You, uh, always tried your best to keep me away from the war."

"I must not have tried hard enough."

Steve observed Bucky's face, trying to ignore the pang of guilt in his own heart. All of a sudden, the man in front of him seemed more like the person he had been before. Since his brief decline in health a few days ago, he had since regained a healthier colour to his skin and seemed a little perkier. Even Bucky referring to who he used to be without even hesitating was a large improvement.

"It wasn't you, Buck," Steve replied, trying to shuffle the guilt away with a slight chuckle. "I was persistent."

"You were reckless," Bucky insisted.

"Maybe I was."

"Sounds like you were," added Tony, walking past with a pile of metal scraps in a box. He placed the box near the door, and asked over his back, "So what's the plan for you two? You staying another night, or after all my hard work, do you just want to take it and go?"

Despite Tony's casual tone, Steve could see in his face that he was as concerned about the new situation with HYDRA as they were. They couldn't just leave straight away. This was all too sudden, they needed some more information.

"Maybe it'd be best to stay another night. It would be best to make sure everything's working with the arm, anyway," Steve suggested.

Bucky nodded slowly. "Yeah. That sounds good."

"Cool. Though by this point we've completely run out of food material so I'll take a vote now; Chinese food or pizza? Or both? I'd be happy with both."

Steve smiled and looked at Bucky, who looked puzzled and noncommittal, but who half-smiled back.

"Both sounds good to us."

* * *

One of the things Steve didn't know about Tony Stark was that the billionaire had almost an entire room filled with either b-list action movies or terrible cult classics. In retrospect, with all the rooms in his house, Steve shouldn't have been surprised. They settled down in the living room after ordering fast food, sitting in their usual places on Tony's couch.

Tony clearly found great entertainment in throwing movie titles at Bucky and Steve and getting their reactions alone. But the elephant in the room was growing to an unavoidable height, and Steve could feel himself growing more tired and anxious as the night went on. Bucky had hardly said a word, and hadn't left Steve's side since they left the laboratory

"Am I boring you?" Tony asked eventually, stopping his rant on some cult film from the nineties.

"You know what's up, Tony," Steve said drearily. "We just don't really know what to do."

Tony dropped the act. He ran a hand through his ruffled hair and addressed the ceiling, "JARVIS, the info?"

"_Decoded and sifted through, sir._"

"And?"

"_Before HYDRA's infiltration of SHIELD was discovered, one of its many affiliates – known as Project Centipede – had been doing research and experiments into the creation of super soldiers for its cause. Since then, in light of everything that has happened, Project Centipede has appeared to have been all but cancelled. However-"_

Tony, still listening, brought up the holographic screen from the table and began to look through the files himself. Steve watched the screen over Tony's shoulder, whilst Bucky just looked at the floor.

"So, HYDRA's started to grow its heads back," Tony muttered with a frown.

"_After nearly two months of being inactive, whatever was left of Project Centipede's research has been accessed and reinstated. This information was taken from the only intelligible part of a coded message extract. The extract had been damaged during its acquisition."_

"Thanks, JARVIS. There's not much there that I didn't get before from Natasha, but I didn't know about Project Centipede."

Steve looked at Bucky. "Buck, did you know anything about Project Centipede before all this happened?"

Bucky shook his head, his face looking strained. "I… don't remember. I- I mean, I don't know, they wiped my memory after every mission."

"I can hazard a guess and draw a link between what Nat said about HYDRA wanting Bucky back, and what we now know about Centipede." Tony said, closing the holographic screen.

"They think getting Bucky back could help them recover what they lost of their research on super soldiers," finished Steve.

"Not only that, but I was a great asset to them before." Bucky sighed. "But what can we do? We don't know anything for sure."

"I suppose all we can do is be on guard. I'm going to alert as many guys as I can just to keep an eye on your apartment for a few weeks, and I'm going to keep tabs on as many security cameras around the area as I can," Tony stood up. "For the moment, at the very least, that's all we can do. Things on both ends are so hazy at the moment; I do reckon you're safe. Just be careful."

Steve nodded. "You're right for the most part, but we're not safe. We'll go home tomorrow morning, but I think I should call Sam."

"Well, there's strength in numbers, I suppose." Tony stretched, and checked his watch. He looked back at Bucky then. "How's the arm?"

"It's… good. It doesn't hurt." Bucky outstretched the limb.

"Then I consider that a victory. Now, come on, the food is getting cold."

* * *

After that, Tony spent the rest of the evening trying his best to keep the atmosphere light. It wasn't hard; something about Tony Stark did that anyway, though Steve found that admitting that to himself was more difficult than it should be.

Tony showed Steve and Bucky some movies they weren't particularly interested in, as both of them were mostly wrapped up in their own thoughts. But around halfway through the third film, they found themselves beginning to enjoy it and the company a little more.

Steve noticed how Bucky became enthralled with the action in the latter part of the movie. It occurred to Steve that this must be the first time that Bucky has really gotten a proper chance to simply _live_ in the 21st century. It felt oddly comforting to Steve, to have someone who was as new to this as he was.

"Have you ever seen a movie in Blu-ray before?"

Bucky's head was tilted slightly, involuntarily. He didn't look away from the screen when he answered. "No. I haven't really seen one at all. Not since… not since before."

Steve saw how Bucky's face twitched in confusion at the mention of life before he became the Winter Soldier. The two of them did see a movie or two together when they were young, but it was nothing at all like this. And it wasn't ever that much of a life-changing experience for them. Bucky always used to prefer fairs over theaters.

After that movie, Bucky said he was tired. Steve only realised then how late it had gotten, and fatigue began catching up to him too. Tony said he wanted to stay up and finish what remained of the food and wished them goodnight.

Bucky asked Steve to stay with him again, and by that point Steve was too tired to object even if he'd wanted to.

Bucky fell asleep almost immediately this time, without even getting underneath the covers. Steve briefly checked Bucky's temperature to make sure he didn't actually need the blankets, before quietly sitting down on the opposite side of the bed and propping himself up with the extra pillows. He had intended to read something before he went to sleep, but his eyelids had begun to feel heavy as soon as he'd entered the room.

"Sorry, Buck," Steve whispered, mostly to himself. Sleep was overtaking all thoughts within a matter of minutes and he closed his eyes, shifting against the pillows so he was more comfortable. "I think I'm going to have to share the bed tonight."


	9. Dark Harbour

**Sorry for the wait (again), folks**

**Enjoy the chapter! ^.^**

* * *

The first thing Steve was aware of when he found he was awake the next morning was a chill in the air.

He raised his head, eyes opening slowly and his brain still groggy from deprived sleep. A slight pinch of pain slithered down from his injured shoulder. When his eyes focused, Steve saw the curtains billowing in the wind. They framed the wide open window. Bucky was sitting on the windowsill. His hair was damp and was falling over his face in spikes, and he was wearing a faded blue T-shirt and some jeans that were a little too baggy.

Steve sat up further, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "Morning."

Bucky's shoulders stiffened slightly, but he looked otherwise calm when he glanced behind him at the bed. "I couldn't sleep. So I had a shower, and I've just been thinking."

"Well, that's a good way to wake up."

"You slept like a log."

"Did I?"

"I didn't even know you were there until I woke up."

"I'm sorry, by the way," Steve cleared his throat, suddenly realising where he was. He gestured vaguely at the bed. "I know I should give you space. I was just-"

Bucky looked confused for a moment. When he realised the cause of Steve's fumbling, he smiled to himself. "It's okay. It's actually… comforting, to have you close to me."

"Yeah?" Steve smiled back. "I remember we shared a bed some times before. Back when we were kids."

There was a thoughtful silence, broken only by birds outside and the distant sounds of traffic. Bucky eventually swivelled around on the windowsill so he was facing Steve completely. "Tell me."

Steve nodded. He looked down, frowning slightly as he searched his memory, before starting,

"A little while after we first met, I got sick. I, uh, used to get sick a lot, before I was Captain America. And you knew that right from the start. But this time… it was a pretty bad spell. And you just spent every free moment at my house. At first you came over every morning before school, and after school you stayed until bed time, but eventually your mom just let you bunk over until I was better. You left my bedside sometimes, to raid our cupboards, or just wander around whenever I was sleeping, but whenever I was awake or having a bad attack, you'd just be there. My mom never asked you to leave because she knew you wouldn't have.

"And, I got cold one night. Colder than I'd been my whole life. And I didn't even need to call out to my parents, because you didn't waste any time. You climbed into the bed with me and spent the rest of the night there, always making sure I had more blankets than you did. I remember you talked _a lot_, too. I don't know what you said to me; your terrible jokes, stuff from school I'd missed while I was away, random stories that came to you as you spoke. You talked me to sleep – literally. Mom told me she came in the next morning and found us wrapped up in the sheets together like two peas in a pod, both completely knocked out.

"I think I got better just shortly after that. And there were… plenty of other times when you helped me like that. But that time especially, it just sticks out, I suppose."

Steve had been looking at the floor as he spoke. When he looked up, he saw that Bucky looked solemn.

"You probably weren't looking to have such a long explanation-" Steve said; mainly just to break the silence that followed the story.

"No," Bucky replied quietly. "It's not that. I just… wish I could remember." He sighed, and quickly ran a hand through his hair. His eyes softened and his mouth twitched in an almost invisible smile. "Whenever you tell me about what I was like before, it's like you get lost. I- I can tell that you're telling the truth. But in my head, there's just… t- there's just a block."

"I know, Buck. And I'm sorry. I wish you could remember too."

Bucky frowned. "Do you- do you think I will remember? I mean, I- I know I've seen fractions. Pieces, like a puzzle. But I still can't remember anything – anything concrete - about who I used to be."

"There's no question, Bucky. You will."

"And even if I do, do you think it'll change anything? The way I am now… the things I've done… remembering won't change any of that…"

Steve stood up and walked past the bed, to sit down next to Bucky on the windowsill. Steve could see clearly that his friend was suddenly on the verge of panic. "I… I know," Steve put a hand on Bucky's human arm, squeezing it gently. "I know it won't change the past. But it'll make things clearer. I can promise you, Bucky; it'll make who you _are_ clearer. And that'll make a world of difference to you."

Bucky closed his eyes, frowning as he tried to overcome the wave of anxiety that was overtaking his thoughts. "Then what? I have nowhere to go… I- I'm a fugitive. SHIELD wants me because of what I've done; HYDRA wants me so I can do it again…"

"You can stay with me for as long as you need to, okay? You don't even have to leave if you don't want to. I can protect you from anyone who wants to hurt you, just like you used to do for me."

Bucky opened his eyes again; they were dark with pain and confusion when he then looked at Steve. "I didn't trust you, Steve. When you told me you knew me. I thought you were the enemy. Every… every good thing you do, I expect it to hurt. It never does. Standing next to you feels… right. You said you're with me to the end of the line. I- I do believe you now…"

"I'm glad." Steve replied with a smile, not caring at all about his dampening eyes.

Bucky returned a small smile, and looked down at the bionic arm. "I- I guess we can go home now that everything is okay with this."

"Do you want to?"

"Every time I look at Stark, I see what I did to his parents. I don't think I can take it anymore, Steve."

Before standing back up, Steve patted Bucky on the shoulder. "Okay, Buck. We can get going as soon as we get some breakfast."

* * *

Bucky and Steve wandered into the kitchen together. They saw Tony pouring himself the last of the contents of the coffee maker in what Steve could only assume was not his first cup.

"Ah, morning," Tony said, giving them a wave. "You two were late waking up."

"What can I say, we're night owls," Steve said.

"I'm sure you are. We only really have coffee, so make of that what you will." Tony passed them on his way to the couch. "Oh hey, how's the arm doing?"

"It's," Bucky raised it and flexed his hand. "It's good."

"No pain? Swelling? Disastrous malfunctions?"

"No."

"Good. What about you, Cap? How's the shoulder?"

Steve didn't want to dwell on it for long, not with Bucky there. "It's as good as can be expected, thanks. I think we're going to head out."

Tony took a long sip from the cup of coffee. "Well, feel free to pop back in at your leisure. Pepper is away at a conference right now and there's only so much intelligent conversation one can have with their house. I'm kidding, JARVIS." He drained the rest of the coffee and placed the mug on the table, seeming to sober up when he locked his gaze with Steve's. "And if you guys need refuge, or help, with anything – just give me a call, okay?"

Steve nodded gratefully. "Thanks, Tony."

Bucky didn't look at Tony as he spoke. "I appreciate it."

"Well," Tony looked oddly crestfallen, but after a moment his face brightened again. "Have a safe trip back, Old Timers."

* * *

The ride back was quiet, save for the stereo Steve only ever put on the lowest volume setting. He always liked it better as ambiance. Every now and then, he would steal a glance at Bucky, to make sure he was okay. Prolonged silences from his friend made him uneasy.

Bucky seemed content for the journey. As ever, his face would sometimes twitch or something dark would cloud his eyes. All symptoms – Steve supposed – of being lost in one's own thoughts when your thoughts are as muddled as Bucky's.

"I should have told him about what I did," Bucky remarked, after a while. "I think he deserves to know why he's an orphan."

"I think…" Steve bit his lip, and sighed. "I think he already does."

"He couldn't know…"

"Bucky… I could see it. Every time he looked at you, I could just see it."

Bucky exhaled heavily, averting his eyes back to the window, but it was obvious he wasn't really looking at anything. "Then why did he still help me?"

"He also knows that what you did as the Soldier wasn't your fault. As much as the guy gets on my nerves, he is a good man. He wouldn't have cast you out because of something you did under someone else's control."

"He should have."

"Bucky, don't." The level of Steve's voice was rising despite his intention to handle this gently. He wouldn't let Bucky's progress be hindered by anything, especially the man's own guilt. "It was not your fault."

"You keep saying that-"

"Because it's true. You said you believed me, Buck. I know _you_. And none of this was your fault. I-if anything, it was mine."

Bucky looked surprised. "Yours?"

"If I'd tried harder when you… when you fell from that train, I could have stopped _all_ of this. I could have saved you from all of this," Steve shook his head, before the emotions bubbling beneath the surface of his skin could overcome him completely. He wanted desperately for Bucky to blame him. Scream at him for not trying hard enough. It would mean Bucky remembered what happened; that it was not his fault; and that he was not HYDRA's lap dog anymore.

Steve was startled from his thoughts by cold metal on the arm he was resting on the gear stick. Looking down, he saw Bucky had reached out and was touching Steve's arm in a way Steve himself had often done whenever Bucky was distressed.

"Whatever happened before HYDRA found me was not your fault, either." Bucky said. His voice was firm, but desperate, as though seeing Steve doubt himself was as painful to Bucky as it was to Steve seeing Bucky do the same. "Please. Don't blame yourself."

Despite the lump in his throat, Steve smiled hollowly. "Okay. I won't if you won't."

Bucky looked taken aback, just for a moment. But then he smiled back, in the tiny lopsided smirk that was beginning to seem typical of him now. "I guess it's a deal."


End file.
